


Dinner Party from Hell

by Fairfaxleasee



Series: Fenris/Cassia [16]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Established Relationship, F/M, Horror, Minor Violence, Post-Game(s), Psychological Horror, Satire, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairfaxleasee/pseuds/Fairfaxleasee
Summary: Seneschal Bran decides Viscount Hawke is going to throw a dinner party for a delegation of Magisters seeking Fenris.  (Un?)Fortunately his instructions to her could have been clearer.
Relationships: Fenris & Aveline Vallen, Fenris & Varric Tethras, Fenris/Female Hawke
Series: Fenris/Cassia [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141970
Kudos: 12





	Dinner Party from Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @blondetexan, @xqueen0fhellx, and @acrononymous for being my betas (and for trying very, very hard to make me spell things correctly).

“ _ Fine _ .” 

Cassia Hawke spat the word as though it were an affront to her sense of taste. Although, given what had provoked it, that was probably not far off. Seneschal Bran was standing just inside their bedroom, domineering sneer firmly affixed to his face as he literally looked down his nose at Cass. Fenris supposed the room was technically Cass', but he wasn’t about to let anyone try to force him out of it. For her part, Cass was pacing by the corner furthest away from Bran, fingers curled into claws glaring back at him, again reminding Fenris (who hadn’t seen Bran’s forcing his way into their room as a reason for him to have to get out of the bed) of an agitated spotted cat that anyone who’d spent any time on Seheron, Qunari or Tevinter, would know to give a wide berth if they wanted to keep their faces attached. Bran knew just enough not to try to get any closer to Cass; the Tevinters were, in her case, apparently less discerning.

Fenris’ former masters had been rather insistent that Cass ‘return’ both he and Orana for years. According to Orana, the demands for her return started shortly after the ‘unfortunate, but given  _ just _ how dangerous spelunking around the Wounded Coast was, not at  _ all  _ unforeseeable disappearance of Hadriana and her escort’ several years ago that Cass simply could not justify asking the guard to investigate, given the ‘recent strain on Kirkwall’s resources, not to mention the inordinate amount of time that had passed between the incident in question and the formal petition to the Viscount’s office, and the fact that no one could offer substantive proof that any of the individuals in question were ever in Kirkwall proper.’ Cass was, of course, deliberately ignoring the fact that there had been no Viscount to petition during almost the entirety of that period. Fenris wasn’t entirely positive how long the Imperium at large had been seeking him. Cass summarialy burned any letter delivered to the estate that was sent by anyone in the Imperium without reading them, but based on the letter Bran had read to them shortly after Cass' coronation, it sounded as though a good amount of the kindling she had been using before they moved to the Keep were requests to return him after the ‘regrettable loss of an Imperial citizen due to an act of entirely justified self-defense per the Magistrate’s Inquest, as corroborated by several witnesses.’ 

Bran had made her send a formal response to the requests as Viscount, likely for no other reason than to prove he could. Fenris had watched her spend pages detailing her favorite stonewall on the matter, that she didn’t own any slaves, didn’t know any slaves, and as such had no idea how to go about ‘returning’ any slaves, even assuming that the requests were legitimate before proceeding to her semantics games that left the requests themselves in tatters. She had actually started to have fun with it after a bit, particularly when ‘reframing certain events for proper context.’ That made the fact that she couldn’t send her initial response; ‘I will cut my fucking hand off at the wrist before I fucking let you  _ TOUCH  _ either one of them; and you don’t even want to  _ KNOW _ what I’m willing to hack off you!’ slightly more palatable to her.

What remained unpalatable to her was the fact that Bran had apparently agreed to allow a Tevinter delegation to come to the Keep to petition her directly on the matter. At a dinner party. That night. That she was expected to entirely organize; menu, decor, and entertainment. And attend, for the duration. It was the part about her expected attendance which had precipitated the ‘fine.’ Fenris remembered that Cass' mother had devoted quite a bit of time in an attempt to control her by expunging specific four-letter words from Cass' vocabulary (including her particular favorite ‘f’-word), but in his experience, there was not a single word Cass could say, of however many letters, that was more ominous than ‘fine.’ From most people, ‘fine’ meant general, if perhaps not overly enthusiastic, assent. From Cass, it meant ‘oh, I’ll do it; but you’re going to be the one who regrets it.’ It was almost too bad Bran never paid enough attention to her to realize that. Almost.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re willing to be reasonable.” Fenris hated the tone Bran used when he was addressing or speaking about Cass. He wasn’t particularly fond of the one the Seneschal used to or about him, but at least that tone was the same as he used for all the ‘underlings.’ The tone for Cass reminded him far too much of Leandra’s tone for her; the one that meant she needed to be broken and remade in their preferred image, and that they resented her for not simply letting them. “Being able to properly entertain foreign guests is one of the  _ barest minimum _ tasks required for the position you have so graciously been  _ granted _ .”

“Well, if that’s what you think, Bran, maybe I should just quit right now.” Cass stopped pacing and squared her shoulders.

Fenris wished that was more than just an empty threat. He hated seeing what being Viscount was doing to her. Kirkwall was a mess even before it started literally collapsing after Anders’s attack on the Chantry, and Bran and the rest of the nobility had dumped it at Cass' feet with a demand that she personally fix it. Fenris didn’t think the fact that she was the only one who might be able to was a particularly good justification. Especially when he considered that, while she had mastered the technical aspects of the job with almost no effort whatsoever, there were other, vital, aspects that, brilliant and talented as she was, she just could not do. She knew it; he knew it; Bran knew it; the nobility that put her in the job knew it. And they were making absolutely sure she wouldn’t forget it; pushing her into situations, like this dinner party, that they knew she’d fail at. Even as they made the work she was trying to do as difficult as possible, while complaining she wasn’t doing enough, fast enough.

But she wouldn’t quit, because she thought what Anders had done was her fault. That Kirkwall was her mess to clean up. And they wouldn’t let her quit, because even as they resented and ridiculed her, they knew she was the only one who could. Which meant that, empty as the threat was, it worked every time.

“That’s… there’s no reason to make any hasty decisions.” Bran adjusted his collar. “Now, just in case you and your…” he sneered at Fenris.

_ Where is the damn cat-thing when you need it _ ?

Fenris glared and rolled on his side, away from the Seneschal. Fenris wasn’t any more pleased with the man’s continued presence in their lives than Cass was. Bran spent most of his time turning the screws on Cass as hard as he could to try to keep her ‘in line’ without being overt enough about it that Fenris could use his role as her bodyguard as an excuse to intervene. But Cass could handle Bran, even if he knew she didn’t like having to. At least in most of their interactions. There were times when Bran would either get so exasperated with Cass for being who she was or so convinced of his own superiority to her that he would leap recklessly across the bounds of propriety, and those were the times Fenris could step in and put the Seneschal in his place. And Fenris was always ready to do it, but he could step in just as easily facing away from the man as to him.

“‘ _ Bodyguard _ ’ have it in your heads that I’m going to allow this to devolve into the usual situation that plays out when you two get anywhere near Tevinters-”

“Well, I think Danarius had the best chance not to allow the last situation to ‘devolve’ and we all know how that worked out for him.”

Fenris let a smirk slide across his face.

_ Cass' words always are the sharpest things she has on her. _

“ _ Don’t  _ think I’ve forgotten what happened with his apprentice!”

“Oh? Can you _prove_ either of us were anywhere near that? ‘Course, even if you can, there’s some _lovely_ _lese majeste_ stuff buried in the city code I could _always_ dust off. Fuck, can you even prove there was a _that_? No one found any bodies. For all we know, they’re all perfectly fine.”

Another example of the truth as only Cass would think to look at it. They both knew exactly what had happened to Hadriana (even if Fenris wasn’t sure what Cass had done after he left that made her so sure no one would ever find the bodies), but as long as Bran was part of the discussion and could be reasonably inferred to be an antecedent of ‘we,’ ‘we’ could suspect whatever ‘we’ wanted, but for all ‘we’ actually  _ knew _ , everyone was perfectly fine.

“Do not test me, Hawke! I will  _ not _ allow you to use the Viscount’s office as your personal shield, and even if you do manage to slither around the law using this less majestic-”

“ _ Lese majeste _ . It’s Orlesian.”

“I know what it is!”

“Well, I mean, you kinda obviously don’t if you can’t say it right.”

“Laugh while you can, because it’s not going to protect  _ him _ !” Fenris didn’t bother to check but assumed Bran had just thrown an accusatory finger at his back. “ _ Or _ your ‘maid.’ And if either of them ever happens to be in city custody, as Seneschal, I can have them shipped back to Tevinter  _ without _ needing your consent!”

The mischief that usually danced behind her eyes as she toyed with the Seneschal died instantly and her face fell as she cocked her head at the man. Her next words were ice. “Is that the way you want to play this, Bran?”

Bran’s threat against him and Orana had fundamentally changed the reality of the situation to Cass. She never particularly cared what happened to her. As hard as he tried to persuade her to think otherwise, she was always ‘acceptable collateral damage’ in any plan she came up with. The party was going to be absolute torture for her; they always were. She’d be sick for days between the stress of trying to interact with a group while trying to pretend she was anyone but herself and the noise from conversations and chamber music assaulting her nerves. He did what he could to keep her out of the crowds, and Orana could be counted on to make sure some urgent situation or another needed her attention after an hour or two, but it was never enough. She would be miserable, and would make the Seneschal pay for the misery somehow, but she would go and do her best to forget about it. Chalk it up to just another part of the job she hated. That he hated her having to do.

But Cass  _ especially _ cared about what happened to the people she loved, possibly because there weren’t that many of them. They were probably too similar in both those things. Fenris worried that one of these days their willingness to die for each other would get them both into very real trouble. Of course while Fenris was the person Cass cared most about, he wasn’t the only person she cared about. Being forced to go back to Tevinter was Orana’s biggest fear, and it was one of his. He knew Cass would watch Kirkwall crumble into the Waking Sea before she let that happen, Viscount or not.

And the threat also touched on  _ her _ biggest fear: That someone would take him away. That she would be here, and he would be gone. That she’d be alone again. Fenris knew all too well that if he told her he wanted to leave, she’d let him, even if it would eat away at her every second. He knew, because he’d let it happen,  _ watched it happen _ , for three years. And that was his biggest fear: that he’d be the reason she suffered. Again. That he’d end up being just another person who took everything she would give, only to toss her aside when it got too hard. And he would watch the world burn before he let that happen, after she’d lit the match.

Bran, of course, had no idea what he’d just done. He always could be counted on to assume he had the advantage in any exchange with Cass. “This is not a  _ game _ , Hawke. You can’t  _ win _ . You  _ will _ behave at this party, and you can explain to the delegation just why you think you’re so above the law, and deal with the consequences when it turns out you’re not!”

“I already said  _ fine _ , Bran. And don’t worry. No one’s going to forget this party any time soon.”

“Do you think I’m not onto you?” Fenris was as positive Bran was in no way onto Cass as he was no one would ever be able to prove what had happened to Hadriana. “I went through your rooms myself, yesterday. All your little vials and knives? Gone. And just in case you have it in your head that you can send your  _ accomplices _ out to replace them, the guests are staying in the west wing. As soon as I have word they’ve arrived in the city, I’m locking you in here in the east wing, and all the servants know that you are not allowed in the kitchen without my  _ express  _ permission, which you won’t get unless I’m with you.”

“Well, I guess you really did fucking think of everything.”

“Of course I did. Honestly, you’re not  _ that _ smart. If you were, you would have stopped that apostate friend of yours and none of us would be in this mess.”

Bran had just crossed the line he’d been threatening to for a while.

“OUT!” Fenris threw off the sheets and rounded on Bran. Annoyingly, the man wasn’t moving to leave, but he was starting to sweat. “Or do you really think you can have me shipped back if you’re dead?”

Bran turned and walked out the door, but couldn’t resist a last parting shot at Cass before closing it. “Your mother and grandparents would be  _ so _ disappointed.”

_ One of these days I’m going to crush that man’s heart... _

“Putz. Like I really need to get into the west wing or can’t get around you in the kitchen...” Cass muttered mostly to herself as she began to take an accounting of the plethora of items Bran had missed in his sweep of the room. She made sure to leave one or two trinkets in relatively easy hiding spots so he would find something, get complacent, and stop looking. But he would never think to look in most of the places she’d stashed things, like the false bottoms of dresser drawers that could only be accessed if the drawer was removed from its track, or inside the covers of some of her books. And that wasn’t even counting the things Bran overlooked that were in plain sight, like the hairpins that concealed stilettos and what was really in the makeup and perfume bottles and jars. The makeup and perfumes were one of his favorite little tricks Cass had because Bran would actually return them to her on occasion. Cass hated both makeup and perfume, but as a noblewoman she was expected to wear them in public no matter how philosophically or physically averse to them she was, and she had spent the first week in the apartment refusing to tolerate them being in the room. Until Bran’s first raid when she decided that just because something  _ looked like _ a makeup jar didn’t mean it had to  _ be _ a makeup jar. She usually made sure there were one or two floating around the Keep at all times that Bran would eventually find and return with a snide remark. They’d started taking bets on how long it would take Bran to find the various hiding places.

Fenris doubted Bran would try to re-enter the room any time soon but shoved a chair under the knob just in case. “Remind me again why you can’t fire him now that you’re Viscount?”

“Because someone obviously thought to have a competent Magistrate look at that stupid law before they passed it. ‘The Seneschal shall serve at the pleasure of the Viscount and may only be removed from his position by the duly appointed Viscount, except any Viscounts named, or at any time having been named, ‘Cassia Amell Hawke’ may not remove a Seneschal who was serving as such prior to said Viscount’s coronation.’ Even I haven’t figured out a way to argue that I have at no time been named ‘Cassia Amell Hawke.’ Maker knows my mother  _ loved _ throwing the name about every time she dragged me to a party.” She looked down at the assortment of contraband items she had retrieved and set about counting them. Fenris had no idea what exactly was in any of the bottles. Cass' poisons could do anything from give someone a slight rash to fell an Arishok in less than 10 seconds, and after what had happened with Anders, she’d added acids to her arsenal. She didn’t look entirely pleased with what she currently had on hand.

“What do you need me to do?” Fenris asked.

“Nothing!” Cass snapped her head up to him, slightly panicked. “No, you heard Bran; you can’t be anywhere  _ near _ this, or me!” She rushed to the pile of clothes she’d dumped out of the dresser drawers and flung the first of his shirts and pants she laid her hands on at him. “You need to leave. Get somewhere where people can see you and know you’re not with me. And we can’t be alone together after this!” She kicked the chair out from under the doorknob and stuck her head into the hallway. “Will someone please tell Orana I need to see her  _ now _ ?”

“Cassia!” He reached out to lightly touch her arm. He wanted to embrace her, hold her to him. Give her a tangible reminder that he was there, with her. Exactly where he wanted to be. But she was already agitated, and there was a point where even his touch was painful for her. And if she wasn’t already past it, she was very close to it.

She leaned back into the room and looked at his hand. She brought one of hers to her lips and started chewing at the edge of one of her nails. He could see the dilemma she was trying to resolve behind her eyes; desire to connect with him weighed against her nerves betraying her. He lifted his hand off her arm and threw the shirt over his head. When she got like this, she did better if their skin didn’t touch. She put her hand down and leaned slightly towards him. He wrapped his arms around her and brought her to his chest, taking care to ensure that her head would be able to rest on his shoulder, well away from his neck.

“Cassia, these people are  _ dangerous _ . I’m not leaving you alone with them. I’m your bod-”

“NO!” She flung herself away from him. “NO, you’re not! I told you that’s just a cover story! Something to keep them off our backs, that Bran can’t argue with!”

Fenris clenched his fists. He’d forgotten how much Cass hated that particular word for him. It made her feel like their entire relationship was transactional, like he only stuck around because she was paying him to. And it had been his role when he was Danarius’s slave, and she was terrified of Fenris ever thinking of her like he thought of Danarius. Even if she had no reason to be. Fenris knew them both well, and she was  _ nothing _ like Danarius. Which was, of course, why he had no desire at all to let her face a group of irate, powerful blood mages. Especially if she was going to be doing it alone. “Cass, these people are extremely powerful blood mages-”

“So? So was Orsino. And Quentin, and Gaspard, Tarohne. Fuck, Anders was an abomination-”

“ _ Yes _ , but I was with you when you fought them AND none of them were from the Imperium, trained their  _ entire lives _ to be blood mages, and you weren’t facing them all at once!”

She glanced away from him and worried her lower lip between her teeth as she considered his argument.

“They’re coming to a dinner party, so they must think I’ll agree to what they want.”

“Or they want to enthrall you!”

“They can’t enthrall me if I’m locked out of the west wing. And I can take care of that before the party.”

“HOW?”

“I CAN’T TELL YOU! You can’t know anything!”

“Then how can you expect me to leave you here unprotected?”

“I’m not defenseless, Fenris!”

“You’re not invulnerable either!” He spun away from her and stalked over to the wall, trying to pretend that the physical distance would curb his anger. She hated it when he was angry, because she always assumed he was angry at her. In her experience, outside of him, most of the time the people she was close to were angry, it was at her, because of the way she was. He was never angry at her; he wasn’t angry at her now. But he was angry that she could get very badly hurt and didn’t care at all. Or at least not as much as she should.

He heard her come up behind him. He was surprised when he felt her hand on his cheek, coaxing him to turn back towards her. “...Cass.”

He obliged and faced her without hesitation. There was no other possible reaction, he knew just how hard it must have been for her to reach out to him like that. She wasn’t able to meet his eyes. He wasn’t surprised, she had difficulty maintaining eye contact even when she wasn’t on edge. She was looking as close to him as she could without risking being forced to turn away. Her eyes were focused on an area of the wall just to the right of his neck, so he focused on her hand on his face as she moved it to the side of his head so she could twist locks of his hair between her fingers, even if it was too short for her to keep hold of any one lock for long. She always had liked his hair, and he was seriously considering growing it out for her. Her other hand grabbed the fabric of his shirt around his collar and pulled it towards her chest.

_ She always is finding new ways to ruin those… _

When he first came back she would grab onto the elbows, to make sure he was still there or try to keep him from leaving, especially at night. Before the coronation, she had taken to pulling out the hems on the cuffs of his sleeves and unraveling them as he held her. But before she had his shirts to work out her anxiety, she had turned it on herself, so sod the shirts. It wasn’t even a close call; he could always get another shirt. He would never find another Cass. He rested his hands on her sides. It wasn’t where he wanted them, but he knew if she started to feel trapped she would have to break away, and he wanted that less.

“Fenris, I need you to listen to me; to trust me on this. I can  _ do _ this, but I need to be able to think and focus and I  _ can’t do that _ if I’m worried about you!”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I  _ know _ , but-”

“Mistress? You wanted to see me?” Fenris had completely forgotten Cass had sent for Orana. Normally she wouldn’t have entered the bedroom without knocking, but he and Cass weren’t the only ones concerned about the guests they were expecting.

“Mm-hum.” Cass pulled more of his shirt into her fist. “Orana, can you go back to the estate and look for that stemware set my mother had?”

Orana looked slightly panicked. “Uh, Mistress, I only remember your mother having one stemware set and you… well, you um, I mean it… it got broken shortly after she died.”

“Well, don’t tell anybody that part. Just say it’s not at the Keep and I sent you to look for it.”

“Ah, I see, Mistress.”

“And make sure Bran knows that I told you that I don’t want you to come back until you need to for me to get ready or you’ve found the set. Take some of his spies with you, make sure at least one of them is wasting time looking over your shoulder the whole time you’re at the estate. And don’t try to bring anything back that’s not the stemware.”

Cass had been pulling his collar down more as she spoke. Fenris was finally forced to interrupt her. He kissed the side of her head and whispered to her, “Cass, you need to give me some of the shirt back so I can breathe.” She reluctantly loosened her grip, but he could feel her start to gather the fabric up again almost immediately. He let out a silent laugh and smiled into her hair.

“Just, before I go, Mistress…” Orana sounded nervous.

“Hm?” Cass responded.

“Is it… they say… are they  _ really _ coming to the party?”

Cass stopped tugging at his shirt and her entire body tensed. “I have it under control. They will be disappointed. And they won’t be back.”

“Hm!” Orana nodded and set off to make sure Bran would know she’d been out of the Keep the entire day. Fenris couldn’t decide if he was impressed or exasperated that Orana just assumed Cass would be able to accomplish whatever it was she set out to do, even if it was forcing an entire dinner party of Magisters into submission.

“I don’t like leaving you here alone,” he told Cass once Orana had closed the door behind her.

“And I don’t like  _ being _ here alone, but you can’t stay!”

Fenris closed his eyes and sighed. “I… fine. I’ll go make sure I’m seen somewhere else.  _ But _ I’m coming back for the party. I’m not leaving you alone for that.”

She pouted at his words.

“It would be extremely suspicious for your so-called bodyguard not to show up to guard you at a party full of Magisters, at least some of whom we should assume want you dead.”

She pouted harder which meant he was winning the argument.

“And…” He reached down to take her left hand, brushing his fingers against the ring he’d placed there. “It would be  _ unforgivable _ for your fiance to let you face that alone.”

She nodded before bringing her lips to his. She’d likely intended for it to be a gentle reassurance, but as soon as their lips touched something snapped in them both. He pressed his tongue into her mouth and she accepted it greedily. When he tried to pull it back, she closed her teeth over it, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to let him know how reluctant she was to part with it. He spun them around and pinned her to the wall and everything else fell away until they were forced to part for lack of air.

“I will die before I let them take you, Fenris.” She dug her fingers into his shoulder blades.

“And I will die before I let them hurt you, Cassia.” He held her face and traced her cheekbone with his thumb. “Is there anywhere in particular you want me to go?”

“Somewhere a lot of people can see, and that won’t look like you’re there just to be seen. Somewhere you’d go anyway. So, play cards with Donnic in the barracks or Varric at the Hanged Man.”

“And if Varric or Aveline suspect?”

Cass grinned wickedly at him and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Tell them everything you know, and that I told you to. Tell them that if they want to know so badly, they’re invited. It’ll be all anyone can talk about for  _ weeks _ .”

\----------------------------------------------

“Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” Donnic looked simultaneously dismayed and entirely unsurprised when he saw Fenris walking towards him in the barracks.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t surprised that Donnic didn’t want to know what was happening, but he was slightly surprised that Donnic already knew that he didn’t want to know what was happening. “I couldn’t tell you anything if I wanted to-”

“That’s  _ something _ , Fenris. I told you not to tell me  _ anything _ . That way, when Aveline comes back, I can tell her I know nothing!” Donnic removed his gauntlets so he could stick his fingers in his ears as he looked directly at the table in front of him.

Fenris let him continue for a few minutes until Donnic realized he wouldn’t be leaving and removed the fingers. “Can I ask you a question?”

“As long as you don’t tell me anything, or show me anything. I don’t want to know anything, and I don’t want to see anything. I’m not in any particular hurry to find out just what your girlfriend does to inconvenient witnesses. Or become one of my wife’s.”

“How do you know you don’t want to know anything?”

Donnic sighed and put a hand to his face. “ _ Because _ , about 5 minutes before you came in, Bran sent for Aveline saying he wanted to discuss security precautions for tonight-”

“Do you know what’s going on tonight?”

“NO! And I don’t want to, but that’s not looking like it’s going to be an option is it?”

Fenris shrugged. “It does seem unlikely.”

Donnic shook his head and continued, “And if there  _ is _ something going on, that I know nothing about, and you’re here instead of with them or Cassia, that’s already more than I want to know about it.”

“That’s an entirely reasonable position.”

“Well, make sure you tell Cassia that, won’t you?”

“I’m not going to see her for a while.”

“Ugh, that’s almost another thing! I told you not to tell me those!”

“Uh… I’ll tell her when I see her?”

“That’s better.” Donnic shifted a bit in his seat. “It’ll be fine, right? I mean, Cassia’s always fine.”

“I thought you didn’t want to know anything?”

“I  _ don’t _ . I’m trying to reassure  _ you _ . I know you worry about her.”

“And you don’t worry about Aveline?” Fenris crossed his arms.

“Aveline’s not Cassia.” 

Fenris glanced away, annoyed that such an obvious truism could get under his skin the way it had. Particularly as Donnic hadn’t meant it to. Neither Cass nor Aveline were particularly subtle, or patient, or willing to brook resistance when the results mattered, but that was where their similarities ended. Aveline understood how the world worked and her place in it. Cass understood the technical mechanics of how the world worked, as long as you weren’t counting anything that involved people, and had no place in it; the world had been very clear about that. Aveline was perfectly willing to accept that there were outcomes she couldn’t affect, that she could do everything she could have done and have things still go sideways. Cass would force herself to relive events in excruciating detail to analyze all the things she  _ could have _ done differently, the clues she’d missed, the perspectives she’d been blind to. Before he’d left her to her planning, Cass had told him she’d die before she’d let anyone take him, but that was only half of it. She’d die just as surely if anyone ever took him because she’d assume she’d let it happen. But most important, Aveline had grown up knowing she could be loved. Cass had grown up thinking she couldn’t.

“Look, Fenris, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“I know you didn’t. But that’s why I worry about her.” Fenris muttered the last part to the table under his breath. 

“Well, you probably didn’t come down here to talk about that. Care for a game of cards? I’m always willing to take your money in a hand or two of-” Donnic stopped talking and was staring directly above Fenris’ head.

“Guard Captain.” Fenris didn’t need to turn around to know what Donnic was staring at.

“My office!  _ Now _ ! Both of you!”

“He doesn’t know anything.” Fenris kept looking at Donnic.

“He’s right, I know absolutely nothing!”

“My office. Now. BOTH of you.”

Fenris got up and walked to Aveline’s office. He heard a small scuffle behind him that he assumed was the incensed Guard Captain grabbing her husband’s armor because she thought he was moving too slowly.

“What’s Hawke up to, Fenris?” Aveline started speaking as soon as the door closed.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. She tells you everything.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes slightly. Cass most certainly did not tell him everything. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it was that there were things she couldn’t say to anyone.

“What’d he tell you, Donnic?”

“Nothing! I told him not to! I don’t even know what’s going on, remember? I know absolutely nothing!”

“I told you one thing.” Fenris said.

“Oh, did he?” Aveline kept her eyes on her husband.

“Fenris!” Donnic hissed. “This is why I told you not to tell me anything!”

“Yes, and I accidentally told you one thing after you said that.”

“It’s not going to help either one of us right now!”

“Just let me be the judge of that,” Aveline moved away from Donnic slightly and towards Fenris who stepped back on instinct. “Out with it, Donnic.”

Donnic sighed. “He said he couldn’t tell me anything if he wanted to. But that’s it! That’s the only thing I know! I don’t even know what’s happening that’s started this.”

“I don’t believe that.” Aveline started walking towards Fenris.

“You think your husband knows more than he’s saying?”

“ _ Not _ what I meant.” Aveline picked up her pace.

“She said I wasn’t allowed to know.” Fenris made sure to keep just out of Aveline’s reach.

“Did she? Or is that just what she told you to say when I asked?” Aveline always had been more onto Cass than was entirely convenient.

“Both.”

Aveline stopped following him. “...both?”

“She wouldn’t tell me anything, but told me to tell you that if you asked. And answer whatever other questions you had.”

“What’s her game, Fenris?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have to know  _ something _ . You wouldn’t have left her if you didn’t know something.”

Fenris clenched his fist and scowled. He didn’t need to be reminded of how much he hated having left Cass. “She told me to leave. I had to talk her into even letting me be with her at the party tonight.”

“Wait, Cassia  _ wants _ to be at a party…  _ without _ you?” Donnic sounded extremely skeptical.

“That’s a thing, Donnic. I thought you didn’t want to know those.” Fenris said.

“I don’t, but I’m just very confused about that.”

“As am I.” Aveline closed on him. “Why is she so desperate to keep you away from this?”

“If I had to guess-”

“Only if you don’t  _ know _ .”

“I don’t, but I think it’s a pretty good guess.” Fenris crossed his arms. He knew he probably wasn’t going to tell Aveline anything she didn’t already suspect, but part of him still felt he was giving away some of Cass' secrets. And he didn’t like that any more than she would, if she hadn’t told him to.

“Okay. Guess.” Aveline was studying his face closely.

He sighed. “I think it’s probably because of what Bran said.”

“Which was?” Aveline tapped an impatient finger on her arm.

“Which was that if I were ever in city custody, he could send me back to Tevinter without her permission.”

“Well, we’re dead. We’re all dead. Except for you, obviously,” Donnic pointed vaguely in Fenris’ direction. “She’ll burn down the bloody Keep before she lets that happen. And I mean the  _ literal _ bloody Keep with all the knives she has!”

“I think she’s more likely to poison everyone in the Keep than burn it down,” Fenris corrected Donnic. 

“So she’s planning to poison the Magisters, then?” Aveline narrowed her eyes at Fenris, waiting for him to give up information he didn’t have.

“ _ Magisters _ ?” Donnic threw up his hands in exasperation. “What’s next, the new Arishok? Those categories have about the same survival rate with her! What idiot thought letting Magisters into the Keep with Cassia was a good idea?”

“Bran,” Fenris and Aveline responded in unison.

“Why isn’t he fired yet?”

“Because,” Aveline turned to address Donnic, “the worthless git got himself grandfathered in before the coronation.”

“Well, he’s going to kill us one of these days. If he hasn’t already.”

Aveline turned back to Fenris. “Fine. Let’s say I believe you don’t know anything…  _ yet _ . I’m still going to have to try and stop whatever she’s got planned. And if I can’t, and I can prove anything, I will arrest her, Fenris. So you tell her to think about that.”

Fenris met the Guard Captain’s stare. If he was being perfectly honest, Cass getting arrested would be something of a relief. Even Kirkwall’s desperate nobility couldn’t insist Cass be Viscount from a prison, and he’d be able to persuade her to break out of one of those. But he knew better than to think Cass would slip up and do something Aveline could prove. “You’re probably going to see her before I do. She told me to stay here or at the Hanged Man until the party.”

“You could still slip her something there; that she could slip to everyone else.”

“If you’re so worried, she said to invite you.”

“I’m not playing around, Fenris. I can’t let her kill an entire delegation. No matter how much I might think they deserve it.”

“I don’t think she thinks you can stop her.”

“Well, she has to know I’m going to try. We’ll be there.”

“‘We?’” Donnic looked a bit pale all of a sudden.

“Yes, Donnic,  _ we _ . As in you and I.” Aveline sighed exasperatedly at her husband.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Donnic interrupted himself with a thoroughly unconvincing coughing fit. “You see, I suddenly have this terrible cough.”

“Donnic.” Aveline stated.

“I’m incredibly allergic to poison?”

“ _ Donnic _ .”

“I… fine. I’ll just make sure not to eat anything. Or drink anything. Or touch anything. And I  _ really _ miss not knowing anything.”

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you tonight, Fenris. It’s not self-defense if you or Hawke do something to provoke it.”

“I  _ will _ protect her, Aveline. And I don’t care if it’s self-defense or not.”

“I know. And I know she’ll do the same for you. And that’s what I’m worried about. But I can’t sit in here watching you all day, or follow her around the Keep.” Aveline shook her head. “What are you going to do until the party?”

“Cass said to make sure I’m seen somewhere, so I was going to play cards with Donnic until the Hanged Man opens.”

“Thank you  _ so much _ for making me your alibi, Fenris.”

Fenris shrugged, “It was Cass' idea.”

“Of course it was…” Donnic just shook his head.

“Donnic.” Aveline kept her eyes on Fenris. “Keep an eye on him until he goes to the Hanged Man.”

Aveline stalked out of her office.

“So… cards?” Fenris suggested.

“No, I make it a point not to risk my money and my life on the same day. I wouldn’t want to use up all my luck now, not everyone has an extremely dangerous woman backing them.”

“You don’t think Aveline’s dangerous?”

“Compared to Cassia? When she’s trying to protect  _ you _ ?  _ While _ proving a stupid point to Bran? About as much as a nug is compared to an Archdemon.”

Fenris inclined his head to Donnic slightly. “I thought you were worried about her.”

“That was before I knew what a mess this was. If I’d known, I’d have been too busy being worried about me. And Aveline.”

“You did tell me not to tell you things.”

“Yeah, I should have known better than to think that would do any good. Let’s just go to the Hanged Man.” Donnic started towards the door. “I want to get very, very drunk - but I need enough time to sober up enough to remember not to even touch anything tonight.”

Donnic didn’t say anything on the way to the Hanged Man. Once they entered, he shouted to the room, “Varric! Get out here; he’s your problem now!” before making a beeline for Corff to order his drink. “Have anything that can be used as an antidote for every poison known to man and several that aren’t?”

“Maker’s breath, what’s the Ice Queen up to now?” Corff glared at Fenris over Donnic’s shoulder.

Fenris shrugged angrily at the bartender.

_ If I ever find out who started that ridiculous nickname… _

He hated that name for Cass. Just because she preferred logic to emotion and kept, or at least tried to keep, her feelings to herself didn’t make her some inhuman monster. Or at least it didn’t to him. On top of that, it wasn’t even accurate. He knew just how deeply and passionately Cass felt things, but most people in Kirkwall weren’t interested in Cass' feelings. They preferred to assume the Ice Queen didn’t have any.

“So, Elf. What exactly makes you my problem?” Varric was grinning at him, but couldn’t quite hold the expression steady.

“Donnic decided he wanted to get drunk?”

“Oh, no! You leave me out of this!” Donnic yelled over his second mug of what was far more likely to be a poison than an antidote. “You’re at the Hanged Man; you’re Varric’s problem. And tell Cassia I am a very good alibi and did not start to get drunk until  _ after _ Varric saw you!”

“Oh, well this is auspicious. Let’s go back to my rooms; I suddenly feel the need to make sure Bianca’s ready for whatever this is.”

Fenris shot one last glare at Corff for good measure and followed Varric back. Varric shut the door behind them.

“Alright, Elf. Spill. No, no, wait! Let me get some paper. I want to make sure I have something to take notes on. ‘Group of people of dubious - at best - moral character enter Jigsaw’s lair unaware of what’s in store for them.’ I could probably squeeze a whole series out of that!”

“If you know the ‘dubious moral character’ part, you know as much as I do.”

“Oh, come on. So I maybe heard a little rumor about a boat from Tevinter docking today. But she obviously sent you out for something.”

“An alibi.”

“Oh, so she’s got what she needs then? Then what’s she up to? Planning to cook and serve parts of them at the table?”

Fenris just glared. “Somehow I think she’d consider cannibalism…” he tried to remember one of the words Cass used when she wanted to sound particularly exasperated, “ _ hokey _ under the circumstances.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. So, what, she chains them in the basement with the key just out of reach and a bone saw just within reach?”

“She usually likes knowing that people are dead if she’s trying to kill them.”

“True, true… so, maybe she’ll put them over tubs of lye and keep removing planks until they fall in?”

“How would she get that many tubs into the Keep without Aveline and Bran finding out?”

“So she has a steady supply of lye then? Good to know…” Varric started writing in his journal.

Fenris rolled his eyes. “How are you even coming up with these ridiculous ideas?”

“I’m nowhere near this creative, Elf. These are all things your girlfriend’s threatened to do to people who try to hurt you. Although…” Fenris did not at all care for the grin that was spreading across Varric’s face. “She’s been wearing a fairly impressive ring lately that she doesn’t seem to take off. So, anything you want to tell me?” Varric’s quill was hovering just above his journal.

Fenris sighed. It wasn’t that he or Cass didn’t want anyone to know they were engaged per se; it was that Cass had enough on her plate without people asking her to share insight into or information about their relationship. Even coming from their friends and knowing that wasn’t how it was meant, she couldn’t stop herself from seeing it as being asked to justify her decision; to explain why she was doing what she was doing so they could judge whether it was correct or not and fully expecting it to be not. More of her old scars that were never going to fade. 

And that wasn’t even considering the one person they expressly did not want knowing they were engaged. “Varric, what do you think Bran would do if he thought we were engaged?” Fenris was positive Bran would never suspect they were engaged on his own, he didn’t have enough respect for either of them to think they could be at all serious about each other, but if a rumor of an engagement started spreading, the Seneschal was bound to make himself even more inconvenient than he already was. And again, Cass had enough stress without that.

“Knowing Bran? Something that would get him killed in a way a lot more creative than the ones I just mentioned. But you can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

Fenris looked over to Varric’s bookshelf filled with extra copies of ‘The Tale of the Champion.’ “...of course you can, Varric.”

“What, that? That’s not telling secrets. That’s a fictionalized account of actual events.”

“That’s what she made you write in the summary after she read the first page.”

“But a wedding epilogue might just be enough to get my publisher to agree to a second edition.”

Fenris just glared at the dwarf.

“Okay, I get your point. Maker knows Jigsaw’s got enough to worry about without me writing something that might add to it. ...You’ll tell her I said that, won’t you?”

“If you drop this whole thing now, I might.” Fenris leaned away from Varric and crossed his arms. All the discussion had done was remind him of everything he and Cass had to lose that night and that he couldn’t help without risking them losing it anyway.

“I am still curious though, just what exactly does she have up her sleeve?”

“I have no idea. But if you’re so curious, she said you’re invited for dinner.”

“Now, when you say ‘for dinner’...”

Fenris rolled his eyes in response.

“On the one hand, I’m definitely intrigued. On the other hand, I like breathing. And having all my body parts attached in the proper place.” Varric put a hand to his chin as he weighed his options.

“You have a few hours to mull it over.”

“True. And maybe if we play Wicked Grace I can distract you enough that you’ll answer some of my questions.”

“There’s not much more I can tell you. But maybe you’ll be distracted enough that I can win some money this time.”

“Oho! Optimistic all of a sudden? Looks like I was right about things going well with Jigsaw at least.”

“Just deal the cards, dwarf.”

“Alright, we’ll just see how this plays out.”

Varric added 30 sovereigns to what Fenris won in exchange for Fenris promising to never tell anyone exactly how much it was.

\---------------------------------------------------

When he got back to the Keep, Fenris intended to go directly to the reception hall so he could keep an eye on the night’s ‘guests of honor.’ He knew better than to try to go see Cass, no matter how worried about her he was. She had been pretty clear that morning that she wasn’t willing to risk him being seen as an accessory, and even if she hadn’t been, he knew Bran had probably told the servants loyal to him to keep Fenris away from Cass. Always easier to break a person when you take their support.

But one of the servants was waiting for him and handed off a pile of clothes and a note before scurrying off without further explanation. Fenris glanced at the note before he set the clothes down so he could examine it. Cass had terrible handwriting and worse spelling at the best of times, and based on the state of the note she had obviously been very stressed or very rushed, but more likely very both when she had written it. Fenris was willing to bet all the money he’d gotten from Varric earlier that even Cass wouldn’t have been able to tell what she had written.

He squinted at the note. The first letter looked like a ‘P,’ so ‘please’? ‘Please’ was probably in the note at some point, Cass would never demand he wear something and he couldn’t imagine that he was given the clothes to pass on to someone else. He thought he saw a ‘w’ in the first line and the last word looked like it might be ‘clothes’ with the vowels wrong, so something about how he should please wear the clothes. The second line was the most legible, which was a bit ironic considering it concerned Bran. He recognized the hostility she’d written into the name, and there was no one and nothing else beginning with ‘b’ that she would be that furious at. She’d written something about the Seneschal being a ‘complete douchebag,’ which Fenris was able to deduce less from the letters she’d used to form the words and more that it was the only thing she would have called the man that required that many letters. The third line was a complete mess, but there were several ‘o’s with a few ‘t’s towards the end that Fenris suspected was ‘tattoos.’ He looked back at the pile of clothes and noticed that it included shoes, socks, and gloves. Items that he hated, and that she knew he hated, but that would cover his tattoos. So she wanted him to wear the clothes so his tattoos wouldn’t show. He had no idea why, even without the tattoos he was sure the Magisters would recognize him, and there was no way Cass would count on him  _ not _ being recognized without the tattoos, but if this was something Cass was asking him to do for whatever it was she had planned he could deal with shoes and gloves for a night. The fourth line was even worse than the third, but he thought that whatever word started with ‘x’ and ended with ‘lane’ was probably how she’d settled on spelling ‘explain’ that day. He was convinced that the ‘I love you’ she’d closed with had been clear before her tears caused the ink to run.

Fenris decided to just trust that Cass had whatever this was under control. He wanted to make sure he was in the reception hall well before the dinner was to start, he knew Bran would be only too happy to ‘accidentally’ lock the doors to the dining room before he was in it. Fenris had to admit the clothes Cass must have had made for him that day weren’t terrible. While he definitely preferred the security and jagged metal of his armor, he was pleased that he still cut an intimidating figure in the suit that was just slightly too light to be black. Cass had even had the high collar trimmed in the same burgundy of her favorite tunic. He grinned slightly when he remembered that it had been years since the shirt had actually been anything close to burgundy, over the decade she’d kept the item it had long since faded to a dull pink (a hue she would never have tolerated in her wardrobe otherwise). But she still loved wearing it, it was what she had been wearing the first time he’d complimented her appearance. And he still loved seeing her in it, even if he hadn’t managed to tell her how stunning she looked in it yet.

Fenris checked himself quickly in the mirror one last time to make sure that he’d managed to put the suit on correctly enough that no one would comment on it. He stuck the note from Cass in one of his pockets just in case he might need it later and strapped on his broadsword, he wasn’t about to go without that. He thought it odd that while most of his tattoos were indeed covered, the ones on his chin and neck were still visible. While Bran might have forgotten that, he knew Cass wouldn’t have. He just hoped he’d be able to remember to ask her to explain that after she did whatever it was she was going to do. He stepped back into the hallway and was distinctly displeased to see the Seneschal heading directly towards him.

“Ah, excellent. I admit it took longer than I was hoping but I’m glad that the woman has finally realized that the both of you need to at least start presenting as civilized people in public.”

Fenris clenched his fists and spoke through gritted teeth, “Do not test me, Bran.”

Bran snorted derisively, “Whyever not? You were gone all day so you wouldn’t know, but your precious Hawke has been totally outplayed.”

“What happened to it not being a game?”

“Hmph. She spent most of the morning engaged in one vain attempt or other to delay the inevitable, but she finally managed to grasp the reality of the matter. She stopped resisting hours ago. I’m actually quite hopeful that once you’re well out of the city I’ll be able to salvage something useful out of her. She’ll never be great, obviously, but I’m sure I can at least make her acceptable. Do enjoy your last night in Kirkwall, elf. You’ll be heading back to Tevinter by morning.”

Fenris grabbed the Seneschal by his lapels and slammed him into the wall. He had a vague thought in a voice that sounded like Cass' that he should have looked to make sure there were no witnesses first, but he was far too infuriated to care. He pulled his upper lip back as he spat his response. “If this really is my last night in Kirkwall, Bran; I’ll make sure it’s your last night anywhere.” He slammed the man into the wall again for emphasis, and good measure, before he stalked off to the reception hall.

Fenris was still seething at the end of the short walk to the hall. It did nothing for his temper that the first thing he saw when he entered the room was the Tevinter delegation. He didn’t recognize any of the Magisters, but at least one of them obviously recognized him. A short man with deep suede skin spoke to the rest of the group just loudly enough to make sure Fenris heard, “‘Doesn’t know what slaves we’re talking about’, is it? Honestly, what kind of fools does that woman take us for?”

The man was spared Fenris’ response when Varric answered the question, “Well, this is just my initial impression, so I could be way off, but I’d say the kind of fools that would walk right into her trap completely defenseless.”

A different Magister responded, “Pavus is quite right. And if the woman thinks we’re defenseless, then she is the fool.”

Varric shook his head, “There are a lot of words that can accurately describe Jigsaw. Trust me, ‘fool’ isn’t one of them. Come on, Elf, let’s go over there before Aveline has a heart attack because you’re too close to the targets. Also I don’t really want to be too close when whatever traps Jigsaw set up start springing.”

Fenris kept his eyes on the Magisters as he reluctantly followed Varric across the hall. He would much rather just kill them all right now and be done with it, but there were more witnesses than just Aveline and Varric to worry about, even if Fenris had no idea whatsoever what most of them were even doing there.

In addition to Aveline, shifting her glare between his face and his broadsword, and Donnic, making sure Aveline was between him and whichever servant offering trays of food and drink was closest to them, there were several people in the room Fenris hadn't even considered may be present.

If he’d had time to actually think, he probably would have assumed that someone would have made sure to have Templars for security, though whether that someone was Cass, Aveline, or Bran for appearance sake was anyone’s guess; which explained Captain Cullen (or was it Commander Cullen now?) and the second man Fenris didn't recognize in Chantry armor. Cullen held up a hand to signal that the other man should remain where he was as he approached Fenris.

“Do you,” Cullen seemed to consider his next words, “have any idea at all what this is about?”

Fenris narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you hear when I came in?”

“Oh, I know what they think they’re doing here. What I don’t know is why Hawke’s letting them be here. Or why she’s invited all the rest of us here.”

Fenris shrugged. “If you know what they’re doing here, you know as much as I do.” He was getting rather tired of repeating that sentiment.

Cullen studied his face, “She’s not still mad about that whole ‘arrest the Champion’ thing at the Gallows, is she?”

Fenris chuckled once, “She’s madder about the whole ‘we don’t need the Viscount’s permission to carry out investigations’ thing from last week.”

“That wasn’t my idea! That came directly from Lambert.”

Fenris gave a half-hearted shrug in response.

“Maker’s breath, I should have known better than to come anyway, nothing good  _ ever _ happens when Cassia Hawke is at the center of an event. Everyone else always ends up dead.” Cullen shook his head, went back to the other Templar, and they started whispering.

Fenris had to admit, he shared the man’s sentiment about nothing good ever happening when Cass was at the center of an event. In his experience, the people who ended up dead - at least because of something she did - overwhelmingly deserved it, but he couldn’t remember an event Cass had been at the center of that was in any way good for her.

The new Grand Cleric shot a frightened glance in Fenris’ direction before joining Cullen and the other Templar in their whispered huddle. There was no reason for the Grand Cleric to be anywhere near this, except for the fact that he knew Cass was still furious at the woman over what had happened at her dedication.

The most inexplicable guest was Cass' Uncle Gamlen. The fact that Gamlen had come was in no way mysterious, he would do anything for a free meal and was always eager to treat Cass like his personal piggy bank, but Fenris couldn’t imagine why Cass would have invited him. And he knew Gamlen wouldn’t have been let in the Keep for an event like this without having been invited. Unlike the Templars, there was no way Bran or Aveline would have invited the man, so it  _ must _ have been Cass, but Cass hated eating dinner with her uncle. So much so, that she had spent an entire week calling the meal 'un-lunch,' and insisting that she didn’t know what ‘dinner’ was and never ate it in an effort to keep him from dropping by unannounced - and then there was the incident with the mistletoe. Gamlen was shifting his glance around the room, although whether that was because he was looking for items to pocket or to try and figure out why he was there wasn’t something Fenris was willing to speculate about.

The short Magister from earlier, Pavus, approached Cass' uncle and Fenris was just able to overhear snippets of their conversation.

"...your niece, correct?"

"...useless girl… utter embarrassment… more trouble than she's worth." 

“...nervous about her?”

“No blighted idea… girl always has been slightly touched… pressure’s finally gotten to her… full-on insanity… Leandra’s not alive to see it.”

Fenris felt someone touch his elbow and he quit considering just which of Gamlen’s limbs he should pull off first to look down at Varric.

“Now Elf,” the dwarf was grinning at him, “I think it’s only fair we give Jigsaw the first chance to kill her uncle tonight.”

Fenris snarled.

“I’m sure Jigsaw has everything under control, don’t worry.” Varric’s jaw went slack and his eyes widened as he stared at the stairway over Fenris’ shoulder, “On second thought, worry. Worry a lot.”

Fenris turned to follow Varric’s gaze and all the air rushed from his lungs at what he saw. Cass was standing on the landing, flanked by Bran, except she wasn’t Cass. He was looking at some empty, hollow shell that had taken the place of the woman he loved. The dress she was wearing was just grey enough not to be white and its severe lines gave the impression that she was bound inside it with no ability for autonomous movement or thought. Her usually untamable auburn maine was pulled behind her head (Fenris couldn’t tell what was holding it in place, but he was positive that it must be tight enough to be painful given what he knew about the way her hair behaved). But the worst was her face. Her eyes were down, although that wasn’t unusual, but the full face of makeup she had on (that Fenris could only tell was there because of the way it had shaved off and reformed parts of her features to make them more ‘desirable’ in popular opinion) must have taken  _ hours _ , even for Orana. And she hated sitting still for makeup almost as much as she hated wearing makeup.

Fenris had been wrong about his greatest fear. As much as he hated seeing Cass in pain or knowing she was in pain, seeing this shadow, this reflection, this  _ doll _ , that was beyond feeling anything, even the pain Cass could never escape for long, existing where Cass should be was worse than anything else. He felt a tear run down his cheek and couldn’t stop himself from whispering, “Cass…”

The woman on the landing heard him and raised her eyes to him. She only held his gaze for a fraction of a second, and the nod she had given him was almost imperceptible, but it was enough to reassure him that Cass hadn’t actually gone anywhere. She was just showing Bran and the Magisters what they wanted to see. Something that would make them complacent. Something they wouldn’t be expecting to strike at their vitals. And while he still wasn’t sure exactly when and how she would strike, he was positive that what she’d told him that morning was true. This party would be all anyone talked about for  _ weeks _ .

\-----------------------------------------------

“I apologize for the delay,” Cass kept her head down and was speaking softly enough Fenris barely heard it.

Bran cleared his throat from behind her and she straightened up but didn’t raise her eyes before continuing a bit louder, “Please, come this way. The  _ amuse bouche _ has already been served.” Cass turned to walk towards the door to the dining room and Fenris was able to see that what was keeping her hair in place was an elaborate hair comb covered in pure white feathers, pearls, and gems.

The Tevinter delegation muttered in general satisfaction amongst themselves and went up the stairs towards the dining room. Fenris made to follow after them, but Aveline grabbed his arm and hissed in his ear. “What’s she got hidden in that hair comb, Fenris?”

“I told you this morning, I don’t know. You can ask Bran, I was out of the Keep all day.”

“I’ll do that.” Aveline marched up the stairs and grabbed the Seneschal by his collar to drag him away from the door slightly to check Fenris’ alibi.

Donnic followed her up muttering, “I’ll be fine. I just won’t eat anything or drink anything or touch anything. She can’t poison me if I don’t eat anything or drink anything or touch anything. There’s no such thing as an airborne poison.”

The Templars and Grand Cleric lingered, whispering for a few more seconds before Cullen shook his head and started up the stairs too. Fenris heard him issue a last set of instructions to the other two, “Just don’t say or do anything that might antagonize her and keep away from Bran and the Magisters and we’ll be fine. Probably. Or at least more fine than if she sees us trying to sneak away now.”

Fenris felt someone poke him in the back of the shoulder and smacked Gamlen’s hand away as he turned to face the man. 

“Alright, elf. Just what in blazes is my crazy niece up to this time?”

“Even if I knew what  _ Cass _ was up to,” Fenris closed on Gamlen until he was close enough to see the beads of sweat run down the man’s face, “I think I’d rather tell the Magisters than you.”

Fenris left that thought to sink in before he stalked up the stairs. Aveline and Bran were still engaged in a heated debate and ignoring everything else. Fenris couldn’t hear what they were saying but based on their tones and body language Bran was busy insisting that Cass was absolutely going to behave herself and Aveline had nothing to worry about, while Aveline tried to explain to him that Cass had no intention of behaving herself and the Seneschal should be  _ very _ worried.

Fenris approached Cass at the top of the stairs, “Cass…” He began to reach out to her but she shook her head once and he stopped. She darted her eyes over and once she was sure Bran was paying her absolutely no attention she took one of his hands and squeezed it hard enough that he could feel her ring through the leather as she adjusted his cuff to excuse the movement. She let go too quickly for Fenris’ taste and as soon as she did he slipped into his place as her bodyguard just behind her right shoulder. Cass may not like thinking of him as her bodyguard, but Fenris wasn’t about to trust such a vital job to anyone else.

“Say, Jigsaw?” Varric was the only one still standing in the reception hall as Gamlen’s desire for a gourmet meal had outweighed his fear of Fenris and had driven him to start up the stairs.

“Yes, Varric? And thank you ever so much for taking the time to accept my unforgivably late invitation, by the way.”

Bran pointed at Cass and inclined his head to Aveline as he offered the deference as proof Cass had been thoroughly cowed. The Guard Captain threw up her hands and shook her head before walking into the dining room followed closely by her husband.

“Okay… that wasn’t creepy at all.” Varric looked between Cass and Fenris for some sort of clue. He was never going to get it; Fenris didn’t have any to give him and Cass was thoroughly invested in her performance.

“Did you have a request, Varric?”

“Uh… yeah. Any chance you would let Bianca join us for dinner?” Varric gestured to the crossbow on his back.

“Of course, Varric. I’m sure she’d make an enchanting addition to the table.”

Varric’s eyes widened, “Well, now I’m not sure I want her there. She might get hurt.”

“Oh, dear,” Cass brought a hand to her lips, “I really must ask you to make a decision quickly. I’m afraid I can’t allow late seating at this meal. And we really must start before the  _ amuse bouche _ gets too warm. I’d hate for anyone to get food poisoning.”

“I made my decision; I’m keeping Bianca!” Varric’s words were almost as rushed as his pace as he hurried up the stairs into the dining room.

“Bran?” Cass addressed the Seneschal, “May we get started?”

Bran stood in front of Cass and forcibly adjusted her posture as he tugged at her dress to fine-tune how it fell. Fenris wished he could push the man over the railing; Cass hated it when anyone got too close or touched her clothes and especially hated it when they touched her. Bran knew Cass hated it too but was obviously taking the opportunity to revel in his perceived control of the situation. Bran placed a hand under Cass’ chin to force her face up to meet his eyes, another thing he knew she hated doing. “Are you sure the rest of your unruly beasts are under control?”

Cass averted her eyes and Bran increased the pressure on her chin until she looked at him again. “I did everything you told me to do, Bran.”

“Let… her… go!” Fenris hissed at the Seneschal. While he was positive this would only be his last night in Kirkwall if whatever Cass had planned somehow got out of hand and they had to flee the city, he was nonetheless sorely tempted to make it Bran’s last night anyway.

Bran kept his hand on Cass as he addressed Fenris, “Once you’re gone, I’ll make sure her next bodyguard can understand the difference between a threat and a correction. Among other improvements.” He turned back to Cass, “Be quicker about that next time and this will be less painful for everyone.” He went into the dining room too.

For a split second Cass shot a glare at the man’s back that Fenris was sure was as capable of actually killing a man as any expression, but her impassive mask was back on as soon as he noticed it. She gave a signal towards the side hallway and two sets of servants who appeared to be carrying long lengths of heavy, black cloth rushed towards the dining room. She inclined her head to Fenris as she entered.

The guests were all standing waiting for their host. Fenris followed Cass to the head of the table. Bran had decided to seat himself on her left and was whispering to the Magister seated to her right. Fenris was able to pick up Bran’s last words.

“Everything is under control!”

_ Those are going to be some famous last words there, Bran. _

Fenris twisted a corner of his mouth to grin viciously at Bran. The Seneschal tsked in response.

Once Cass was seated everyone else followed suit.

“Well then, shall we begin?” Cass lifted the cover off her tray to reveal a single deviled egg.

Bran and the Tevinters followed suit without hesitation. The rest of the guests, who clearly understood at least a bit about Cass, exercised much more caution when removing the coverings of their plates. But there was nothing on any of them except for the nearly-identical eggs. Varric took a fork up while trying to touch it as little as possible and started poking the egg. Most of the other Kirkwall guests were engaged in their own investigations of the food they had been served.

“Oh, for…” Bran glared down the left side of the table at them. He took the egg off his plate and bit down on it. Before immediately turning red and beginning to cough. He turned to Cass, furious. “What is the  _ meaning _ of this?”

Cass finished her egg, “Well, Bran, an  _ amuse bouche _ is a course that is intended to amuse the palette…”

“ _ I know what it means _ !”

“Then I don’t know what you mean.”

“I  _ told _ you when we were reviewing the menu that I was allergic to paprika! So  _ why _ is there paprika in the egg?”

Aveline shot Bran an ‘I told you so’ glare from next to him. Fenris noticed Donnic to her other side attempting to use the tip of his elbow to push his still-covered plate away from him.

“I’m sorry, Bran. There were just so many last-minute changes to the menu that it seems to have slipped my mind.”

“There were last-minute changes to the menu because  _ you _ kept fiddling with the ingredients!”

The Tevinters were finally beginning to look nervous.

“No, there were last-minute changes to the menu because  _ you _ kept having the ingredients thrown out. I had the chefs send up plates of the courses for me to try to make sure they were up to my standards. Some of the dishes needed a little something. The eggs were bland so I told them to add the paprika, I guess I completely forgot that you were allergic to it.”

There was no way in the world Cass had forgotten that fact. Of course there was also no way in the world Bran or anyone else could prove she hadn’t. And she wasn’t even lying about it because she’d said ‘I guess’ rather than ‘I did,’ and it was always possible for a guess to be wrong.

Bran cleared his throat and forced a laugh before addressing the Tevinters, “It’s a relatively minor allergy, nothing to worry about. I’ll stop by an apothecary for some elfroot poultice and be fine.” Bran leaned over to Cass to whisper to her, “There had better not be any more surprises, Hawke!”

“Oh, it’s too bad you think that.” Cass' tone, face, and body language changed in an instant. The pliant puppet Bran had counted on controlling was gone and Fenris was infinitely relieved the woman he loved was finally back. “You’re really not going to like this then.”

Cass snapped her fingers. Fenris just realized that while everyone had been distracted examining the food that was waiting for them and by Bran’s coughing, the servants with the cloths had followed them in and obviously been working to affix thick, black velvet curtains around the doors completely blocking them from view. At her snap, one of the servants took a position by the curtain over the waiter’s door to the room and the other three worked to extinguish every candle in the room in quick succession leaving the room in utter darkness until the servant by the waiter’s door moved the curtain to allow light from the hallway to trickle in as the others left the room. Well, Fenris supposed that the room wasn’t in quite  _ utter _ darkness. His tattoos would be faintly visible. Not enough to help anyone see by, but enough for it to be clear that if something  _ did _ happen with the lights out, he wouldn’t have moved to do it.

_ Which is why Cass wanted most of them covered but not all of them. _

He didn’t particularly like being the only person in the room whose position would be known, but if it meant Cass could do whatever she was going to do without worrying about Bran trying to pin it on him, he was willing to accept it.

“Just what do you think you’re playing at, girl? Turn the blighted lights back on!” Fenris heard Gamlen pound a fist on the table.

“Sorry, Uncle. The lights aren’t coming back on until after dinner. It’s this new trend out of Antiva, ‘Deprivation Dining.’ The idea is that when you don’t see what you’re eating, your other senses become more acute and it enhances the experience.”

Fenris grinned as he imagined the frustrated grimace on Cass' uncle’s face.

“Then let me out, I’m leaving.”

“You’re free to leave at any time. It’s not like I’ve tied any of you to the chairs. Although…”

“‘Although’ what, girl?”

“Although, like I just said. The lights aren’t coming back on until dinner is over. It would be such a shame if you were to step on something in the dark. Or trip on something. Or trip  _ into _ something. Now, I suggest we all calm down and enjoy the meal. Bran’s got everything under control, right, Bran?”

Fenris assumed Bran had leaned towards Cass so he could admonish her in a panicked undertone, “You’ll pay for this, Hawke!”

Fenris heard Bran inhale sharply. Again, he had to guess what happened, but he was almost positive Bran had tried to lean away from Cass and she had grabbed some body part or other to stop him and was squeezing it. Cass’ grip was iron when she wanted it to be.

“No, Bran, this is your turn to pay. You spent the entire day trying to make sure that Orana, Fenris, and I were all too terrified to move against you, or your new friends. Now you all get to spend the entire night in the dark, wondering just what I’m going to do to you to get my pound of flesh, give or take - with accompanying blood and viscera just in case you think I don’t know how that ended - in exchange. Now!”

Fenris heard Bran hiss again and could see clearly in his head Cass pulling the man towards her. “Tell your fucking guests that you still have everything under control, and make sure you fucking sell it. Unless, of course, you want to admit here and now they’re never going to get what they’re fucking after and you brought them here for fucking nothing and  _ you _ deal with those consequences. Otherwise I won’t have any fucking use for you and I think we both  _ fucking know _ you don’t fucking want that right now.”

“It’s fine.” Fenris could just make out the panic in Bran’s voice but doubted the Magisters would register it. “She was locked in the east wing all day. Her accomplices were out of the Keep and couldn’t have helped her. I made sure  _ myself _ that anything she touched in the kitchen got thrown out.” Bran seemed to have found his bravado as he spoke.

_ Good. It’d be too bad if he gave up before this got fun. _

A glaring light interrupted Fenris’ thoughts and he raised a hand to block it. He wouldn’t have thought that so little time in the dark would have made the relatively small amount of light let in by the waiters bringing in the next course such an assault to his senses. Based on the discontented murmurs from around the table, he wasn’t the only one who found the light uncomfortable.

“Ah, and now we have the soup course.” Cass stated.

“...what’s in it?” Fenris didn’t recognize the voice. He doubted any of the Magisters would have spoken while sounding so nervous and it was a man’s voice so Fenris guessed the question had come from the second Templar.

“I just told you.” Cass said in an icy deadpan. “It’s the soup course; it’s soup.”

“Right,” the second Templar had moved past nervous and into slightly panicked, “but what’s  _ in _ the soup?”

Fenris heard a dull thud he assumed came from Cullen hitting the man so he would stop attracting Cass’ attention, slightly too late.

Fenris could see the grin on Cass’ face even in the dark and from behind her, it was the one she wore when she was about three moves from beating someone at chess or two sentences away from demolishing someone trying to argue with her, “You’ll have to eat it to find out. That’s kind of the point. Now I really must ask that these interruptions end, the point of this is to really  _ get to know _ what’s on the plate. Savor  _ every _ ingredient. And talking kind of makes that harder. So,  _ bon appétit _ .”

Cass, or at least someone Fenris assumed was Cass based on the lack of hesitation, picked up her spoon and began eating; Fenris could hear the metal scraping against the porcelain. It took a few minutes, and based on another sharp inhale from Bran a bit of persuasion, but eventually several others around the table followed suit.

It was an odd experience for Fenris. Usually he could tune out sounds with absolutely no trouble, but in the dark alert for any sign of danger with nothing else to sense, every clink of silverware, every rustle of clothes, or creak of furniture hammered at his eardrums and pressed into his skull whether he wanted it to or not. Cass would describe certain sounds as vividly painful and he knew that everyone else in the room was experiencing a small taste of what that was like.

The music started during the third course. Well, Fenris supposed it was less ‘music’ and more a few strings of discordant notes. He couldn’t identify the instrument, or the melody, or even where exactly it was coming from. But that may have been because it seemed to be moving. Or there was more than one of whatever was making it in the room.

During the fourth course, he felt someone moving beside him. 

“ _ Don’t, it’s me _ ,” Cass whispered from just behind his ear. “ _ I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to have to be here for all of this but I thought it would be better if everyone knew you weren’t doing anything. Don’t say anything, I don’t want them to know we talked. _ ”

For the second time that day, Fenris wanted to embrace her and hated that he couldn’t. Instead he grabbed at where he thought her hand would be. He missed and got a handful of her dress instead. She realized what he was aiming for, and while it took them a few seconds of fumbling in the dark, eventually he was able to clasp her hand. He tried to pull it, and her, to his chest but she resisted, likely because she was worried that her body would obscure part of the glow from the tattoos and give away her position, and part of her game. Instead she moved her fingers to caress his hand rather than hold it and brought it to her face so he could rub her cheek as she kissed his wrist. He felt her whisper something before she squeezed his hand one last time and disappeared from his side. Knowing Cass, it was probably another apology; but he decided to think she’d whispered ‘I love you.’ That was usually what she meant to say to him, even if she rarely could.

Cass must have gone straight to Bran from Fenris because he hadn’t lowered his hand when he heard her hiss to the Seneschal from far enough away that he must realize she’d left her seat to do it.

“So, Bran. Congratulations on throwing out all my ingredients. But tell me, did you remember to check the silverware?” Fenris heard a clank he assumed was whatever utensil Bran had been holding. “Or the plates? The glasses?” A different, higher clank Fenris was willing to bet was someone’s glass. “And that’s just the things in here. Did you check the skillets and pans? The cooking spoons? The serving utensils? They were all here in the east wing with me, all day; while you were convincing them and yourself you had everything under control. How do you think that went for you, Bran?”

“Enjoy this while you can, Hawke!” Bran waited a beat for Cass to respond, but she didn’t. Although Fenris wasn’t sure whether that was because she’d chosen not to or because she’d gone out of earshot before he’d started speaking. “Hawke?  _ Hawke _ ?!” Fenris could hear the man’s ragged breathing. It seemed that Bran was finally beginning to realize the full implications of Cass being able to move freely and undetected while everyone else was too scared to.

“Who’s there?” Fenris heard the Magister to the right of Cass' seat whisper to the darkness. “Did you... did you feel something just now?” Fenris assumed that part was directed to the Magister on his other side.

Whatever Cass was doing, coupled with what she’d already done, started a cascade of whispers as the guests began to lose their composure. Fenris couldn’t hear Aveline or Varric’s voices in the throng, but he did hear Donnic’s mantra for the night, ‘There’s no such thing as an airborne poison,’ and something that sounded to him like a crossbow being cocked.

The situation in the room was untenable. It was only a matter of time before someone broke and said or did something very stupid. Fenris was distinctly unsurprised when it was Gamlen who did all three.

Even so, Fenris was fairly certain that even if Gamlen had been able to hold it together, the almondine and its distinct aroma would have broken someone.

“Maker’s breath, girl! You are out of your blighted mind! You’re serving cyanide right-”

No one would ever know what Gamlen thought Cass was doing with the cyanide he thought she was serving, at the mention of the word most of the table erupted in a panic and Fenris could hear the scraping of chairs before everyone who was trying to run tripped over everyone else who was also trying to run and he heard the guests crash to the ground.

He did hear Cullen admonish either the other Templar or the Grand Cleric, “First, there’s no way she’d use cyanide, it’s too obvious. Second, if she WERE going to use cyanide she’d have hidden it in something that didn’t smell so much like cyanide. Just sit down and  _ don’t draw attention _ until she turns the lights back on!”

“That’s going to be  _ now _ .” Aveline sounded over the evening. “Alright Hawke, you’ve proved your point and had your fun, now turn the lights back on before someone gets hurt in the stampede and I blame you for it!”

“Shouldn’t you blame Gamlen for it? After all, he was the one who said ‘cyanide.’”

“Hawke, lights!”

“If you say so, Aveline.” Cass must have removed the curtain from the main door as a line of light suddenly blazed into the room from under it. 

That was obviously some sort of cue, the servant who had been standing at the waiter’s door removed the curtain there too and a few other servants entered to light the candles. 

Once his eyes adjusted to the light, Fenris was able to see that every guest except for Cullen and Varric was in one of the heaps on the floor. The Knight Captain had his elbows on the table and his head buried in his hands. Varric had at some point in the meal removed Bianca from his back and was holding the crossbow across his lap. If Fenris had to guess (which he sort of did) the pile containing Aveline, Bran, and Donnic had been caused either by the Guard Captain grabbing the Seneschal as he tried to run before being overbalanced and falling into her husband or by the Seneschal trying to run through the Guard Captain and falling over her which pushed her into her husband. Whichever it was, Aveline was glaring at Bran and Donnic had his arms crossed and was still sitting in the chair even as it lay on the floor muttering about how he hadn’t wanted to come anyway.

The other Templar, Grand Cleric, and Gamlen were in a much more panicked pile closer to the main door, but as the worst they were going to get from each other were a few bruises and Cass wasn’t anywhere near them, Fenris decided he could ignore them.

It looked like the Magisters had tried to flee in two different directions, half out the waiter’s door and half out the main door. The Magister who had remarked on Fenris’ entrance, Pavus, was sprawled at his feet and engaged in an utterly irrational attempt to grab a knife that had fallen to the floor in the chaos. 

Fenris put a foot on the hand that was reaching for the knife and twisted it into the floor. “You don’t want to do that.” 

_ Maybe there’s something to wearing shoes after all. _

Pavus winced and stopped trying to grab the knife. After a few seconds the man looked up at Fenris and asked, “Are you going to move your foot any time soon, elf?”

Fenris twisted it again. “No.” He was perfectly comfortable and didn’t see a reason to move unless Cass needed him to.

Now that he had accounted for all the guests, he could finally look at Cass. He let a genuine smile grace his features in relief for a few seconds when he saw the woman he had left this morning back in her rightful place. She’d taken her hair down and her wavy auburn locks framed her face in a corona of dark fire. Fenris saw no sign of the elaborate hairpiece, but that might be because it had always been the clawed cestus that now graced her left hand with a few added baubles. Of course, with the other changes to her appearance it was likely she'd left the room at some point during the meal so she could just have swapped out the accessories. She’d changed out of the drab garb from earlier in the evening and was now wearing a dress that was much more in line with her tastes. A high collar that opened into a low square neckline with an empire waist and floor-touching sleeves; it was even in his favorite shade of burgundy. Her face was hers again too, although she had chosen to wear the heavy kohl and dark lip stain she liked the look of and tolerated wearing fairly well for short periods. The saturated hues of the dress and the make up set against her fair ivory skin gave her an almost ethereal look.  _ This _ was Cass. And he was so glad she was back with him.

Cass surveyed the room with a look of contempt that put Bran’s to shame. “Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you weren’t enjoying my hospitality.”

“You call  _ this _ hospitality?” one of the Magisters in the pile closer to Cass practically shrieked.

Cass laughed mirthlessly. “You know, you’re absolutely right about that. What’s hospitality without the entertainment?” Cass knelt to get a better look at the protesting Magister. “What say we get that started, eh?”

“NO!” Bran had abandoned all pretence of calm and disentangled himself from Aveline and Donnic before rushing up to Cass. “No, no entertainment, no more food, no more  _ anything _ !” He tried to grab one of Cass' arms. 

Fenris was considering moving his foot to intervene but was spared having to when Cass stood and grabbed Bran’s offending hand to press one of her favorite pressure points to use on the unsuspecting. She twisted Bran’s hand and arm away and down to force the man into a kneeling position in front of her.

“Are you just going to  _ let _ her do this?” Bran twisted his head back towards Aveline.

“Considering as I can’t  _ see _ anything since some prat pushed me I don’t feel a particular need to try and stop her.”

“I can see-” the Grand Cleric started.

“NO, YOU CAN’T!” Cullen corrected her.

Cass released Bran’s hand and reached her cestus under his chin to force him back to his feet. “But Bran, you told me to make sure there was entertainment. You wouldn’t want me to  _ not _ follow your explicit instructions, now would you? Of course, if you want I should come up with an alternate programme… I think you and I could improvise something.”

Bran tried to look away and Cass adjusted the pressure on the cestus. “I… fine. You’re obviously going to do whatever it is you want to anyway!”

“Well, Bran, be quicker about realizing that next time and this will be less painful for everyone.” Cass pushed the man away before addressing the room. “Seeing as everyone’s so eager to leave, you should be glad to hear that tonight’s entertainment is in the form of a one-act, one-woman play, to wit: the antidote hasn’t been served yet.”

Cullen threw one hand into the air and shook his head, “Of course it hasn’t…”

Gamlen started saying something about ‘your mother’ but Fenris missed what it was under the next voice.

“You are  _ insane _ , doing all this over a couple of slaves!” one of the Magisters shouted.

“I am getting,” Cass clenched the fingers of both hands in front of her face, “ _ so _ fucking tired of repeating myself about this. I really don’t know why we have such a hard time with  _ basic fucking communication _ . I do not know any slaves. Nothing I have done tonight is for slaves. You people say you came here looking for these imaginary slaves, so if  _ anyone _ is insane for doing things for slaves, it’s you.”

“Enough of these pathetic games of yours, you dog-lord bitch! Give us the antidote!” Someone was on his way to replacing Pavus as Fenris’ least-favorite Magister present.

“Are we just not speaking the same language?” Cass addressed the room at large, “Like, does ‘play’ mean something completely different to you?”

“I warned you!” The man who was now Fenris’ least-favorite Magister  _ anywhere _ reached for his staff. Fenris kicked the knife out of the way just to keep Pavus from getting any more stupid ideas and reached for his broadsword before he noticed Cass. She was standing perfectly still, arms crossed, head cocked, ‘hit me with your best shot’ written all over her face.

The best shot the Magister could muster didn’t get anywhere close to hitting Cass. He collapsed in pain without being able to get off a single spell.

“Oh! The antidote was for Magebane!” Varric struck his palm with his fist, “Wait, why doesn’t that sound right?”

“Because, Varric, there  _ is _ no antidote for Magebane.” Cass turned away from the Magisters to address the dwarf. “Everyone knows you just have to wait for it to wear off. But honestly, am I the only person here who understands what a ‘play’ is?”

“What did you put the Magebane in, Hawke?” Bran was purple as he spat the words.

“Well, my memory’s a bit foggy, but I think it was probably everything they’ve been drinking since they got here. But I don’t know what any of you,” she gestured to Bran and the Magisters, “are getting so upset about. I told you I was going to do it.”

“You most certainly did not!” Bran was apoplectic. “And how did you even get Magebane into the drinks anyway? The bottles were all sealed!”

“Oh, so nobody found all the broken seals I made special so you’d think you were doing a good job about security?” Cass affected an unconvincing frown. “And I said I was doing it in the notes you delivered; that given recent events in Kirkwall any acts of magical aggression are entirely unacceptable and that I was taking any and all precautions reasonable and necessary to prevent any such acts from occurring. And I think, and I’m willing to go out on a limb and say I can get a Magistrate to agree with me, that ‘Magebane’ is a reasonable precaution, and we have evidence that it was necessary.”

“That’s what the Templars were supposed to be for!” Bran shouted.

“Well one, you didn’t tell me you were inviting them, so that’s on you Bran. And two, your special guests were here  _ hours _ before the Templars, so here we are again at reasonable and necessary.”

“Enjoy this while you can, Hawke.” Fenris decided to stop trying to distinguish between the Magisters. Nothing but wasted effort on the dead. “The Magebane will wear off, and you’re not going to trick us again.”

“Oh, I’m well aware the Magebane will wear off. But not before your diplomatic immunity does.” The smirk Cass wore as she watched the last desperate flails of an outmatched opponent was on her face again.

“Your Seneschal gave us immunity for the whole trip! And we’re not leaving without what we came for.”

“Well unfortunately for you, my Seneschal’s a fucking schmuck and not nearly as smart as he thinks he is. Now, he is right that if  _ he _ gave you the immunity,  _ I _ can’t revoke it, and that’s probably why he was so proud of himself, but he must have forgotten to check to see whether there are special circumstances under which diplomatic immunity could be revoked. In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m much smarter than he is. So I didn’t forget. And there’s one in particular that just springs to mind right now. I just wish I could remember the whole thing… Let’s see, this one is fun because it’s automatic. It happens at midnight the calendar day after someone makes a determination that persons having diplomatic immunity are a clear and present danger to the Viscount, like with an assassination attempt. I just wish I could remember who the person was who got to make that determination…” Cass tapped a finger on her chin.

“Is it your bodyguard?” Cullen just rolled his eyes at the other Templar. He seemed to have given up on the man not tempting fate by attracting Cass’ attention.

“Thank you!” Cass turned to the Templar. “That is  _ exactly _ who it is. Do you want a cookie for knowing the answer?”

“Yes, please.”

“Were you just at a completely different event than the rest of us?” Cullen looked at the man agape. 

“But we haven’t had dessert yet.”

“Have you... been  _ eating _ the food she’s served?”

“It was good.”

Cullen shook his finger at the Templar on the floor, “We will discuss this back at the Gallows.” He turned to Cass, “Hawke, if you… we could… Maker’s breath, what’s the point? I am willing to literally  _ beg _ you, do not give him any food!”

“Just get the fuck out of here Cullen, and take the rest of your Chantry friends and my uncle with you.”

Cass moved out of the way of the door and the Grand Cleric rushed through. Cullen grabbed the other Templar and Gamlen and pushed them out of the room muttering about how he was very close to missing Meredith.

“Varric, Donnic, Aveline? You done here?”

“Interesting party and all Jigsaw, but Bianca’s getting tired. I should probably tuck her into bed.” Varric left too.

“Aveline, dear? May I please be done?” Donnic hadn’t moved and was still ‘sitting’ in the chair.

“Alright, Donnic, it’s almost midnight anyway.” Donnic left before Aveline could change her mind. Aveline stood and addressed Cass. “But  _ almost _ midnight means it’s not midnight yet. I’m staying to see them out of the Keep. And I don’t want either of you,” she indicated Cass and Fenris, “leaving here for the rest of the night.”

“Okay, I can find something to do til midnight.” Cass shrugged.

“That’s…” Aveline’s shoulders slumped in surrender, “Exactly what I said, isn’t it? You lot,” she pointed to the Magisters still sprawled on the floor, “should start heading to the docks.”

“Not without what we came for!”

Cass clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Well, I certainly can’t  _ make _ you leave. I don’t have that power. But if you’re still in Kirkwall’s jurisdiction at midnight, if you’re seen as a threat to me…”

“Which they will be.” Fenris kept a hand on his broadsword as he walked past the Magisters to stand behind Cass.

“Anything he does to you? Nice and legal. And in case you get the idea to try anything cute  _ before _ midnight, which would be a very bad idea in case you’ve forgotten the Magebane, self-defense trumps diplomatic immunity.” Cass examined her cetsus.

The Magisters looked at each other.

“Look, I don’t really give a shit if you want to lie on the floor, hoping that he’s not going to kill you come midnight, only to find out just how wrong you are,” Cass glared at the Magisters impatiently as she spoke, “but it takes at least fifteen minutes to sail far enough away to be in international waters, and another fifteen to get to the dock. It’s what? Somewhere around eleven? That gives you half an hour to get your shit and yourselves the fuck out of here and that’s  _ assuming _ you can launch your boat instantly. You want to try and push that timeline, I’m perfectly willing to tell your next-of-kins how you fucked up just like Danarius did. So get the fuck off my floor, get the fuck out of my home, get the fuck out of my city, and don’t even fucking think about coming back. ‘Cause if you do, let me tell you; there’s a  _ lot _ of interesting shit that people have stored in this Keep over the years. Some of the old Viscounts had very,  _ peculiar, _ taste. I catch any of you back here again, and we’re going to have some real fun. Now  _ go _ .” Cass pointed to the door.

The Magisters looked at each other for a few seconds before one of them shook his head and got up to slink off to the door, the rest followed quickly after.

“Hawke…” Aveline was glaring at Cass.

“What?”

“I heard you threaten them.”

“So? I threatened them with bad opera. You can’t arrest me for putting on a bad opera!”

“I… what?”

“Some Viscount back in the Exalted Age really liked light opera. He wrote a few of his own; they’re terrible, I read the librettos. They come back, I’m going to make them sit through a performance of one of them.”

“Hawke, I know  _ you _ hate it, but most Tevinters consider opera an art.”

“They won’t when I fill the cast and orchestra with the worst musicians in the Free Marches.”

Aveline shook her head. “I’m going to make sure they get to the docks and actually leave. Fenris, if something happens, I will tell you about it, okay? Don’t spend all night skulking about trying to follow them. Bran, I have no expectation that you actually learned anything from this, but I’m going to hope you did anyway.” Aveline threw an arm over her shoulder on her way out of the room.

“Do you,” Bran rounded on Cass, “have  _ any _ idea what you’ve just done? You’ve jeopardized  _ decades _ of diplomacy, and for what? For  _ him _ ?” Bran scoffed at Fenris. “We can find you another elf, and another bodyguard! There are plenty of both to be had! Maker’s breath, maybe we could even find someone who could do what your mother always hoped and teach you how to be normal!”

Fenris saw Cass starting to shake. She was beginning to crash from having been ‘on’ for so long, not to mention where Bran had just taken the conversation. The Magisters, and their threat to him, were gone so she didn’t need to defend him anymore. And for some reason he hated, she wouldn’t defend herself. But he was always willing to defend her. “You’re done, Bran,” he snarled.

“I most certainly am not done!”

Fenris glanced at Cass quickly. Both he and Bran were far too angry not to shout at each other and Cass had already borrowed too much against herself to be able to show people what she wanted them to see. He wouldn’t be able to stop her from falling, he might not even be able to slow the descent, but he could at least not accelerate it by having things out with Bran right in front of her. 

He grabbed Bran by the front of his shirt and pushed him out of the room as he repeated his statement, “You  _ are _ done, Bran.” He kept pushing until Bran was leaning into the empty air behind the railing and the only thing stopping him from plummeting to the marble floor below was Fenris’ grip. Fenris waited until he saw panic set into the Seneschal’s expression with the realization that all Fenris had to do was let go, and he really would be done. Once Fenris was sure Bran was sufficiently motivated to listen, he began speaking, “Tonight was the  _ last _ time you speak to her like that, or treat her like that, or touch her like that.”

“But-”

Fenris tightened his grip near Bran’s throat. “No ‘buts’ Bran. I think it’s time you understood some things:  _ she _ cares what happens to this city, I don’t;  _ she _ thinks she needs to make up for what Anders did, I don’t;  _ she _ thinks it’s her duty to keep trying to fix things, I don’t;  _ she _ thinks you might have useful knowledge from your tenure as Seneschal, I don’t; but if you understand nothing else, understand this: she doesn’t care what you do to her;  _ she’s all I care about _ ! And if I have to kill you to make sure you don’t hurt her, I won’t hesitate. Now,” he pulled Bran up to his face, “do you understand?”

Bran nodded vigorously and Fenris hurled him towards the stairs. Fenris let him get a few steps down before he called after him, “You might want to get out of here before your friends remember just who it was that promised them everything was under control.” Fenris saw Bran stop for a split second before he continued faster than before.

Fenris went back into the dining hall for Cass, it had been a long enough day for both of them and even if she needed to be wrapped in a blanket to comfortably let him, he wanted to  _ finally  _ hold her. When he got back in the room, he saw Cass reaching into a vase. He suspected it has something to do with the small pile of wooden boxes on the table that hadn’t been there when he left. “Well, congratulations on a successful dinner party.”

Cass put down whatever she was holding and turned to him. “I… I don’t know how ‘successful’ I’d say it was.”

Fenris leaned away from her slightly and shook his head. “In what possible way was that  _ not _ successful?”

“I didn’t… I couldn’t…” she started picking at her cuticles. 

“Didn’t what, Cass?”

“I didn’t go as far as I could have to protect you. I should have… I wanted to make them  _ scream _ apologies.” She stopped picking at herself and straightened as she seethed, “I wanted to leave them broken, immobile, helpless. With nothing but the memory of the autonomy they used to have and the knowledge that their continued existence would depend entirely of the mercy of those they paid to give it.” She pursed her lips and looked away. “But Aveline and Bran would have suspected me if anything did happen to them, so I had to make sure everything that happened was because they’d done it to themselves instead.” She shook her head, “I’m sorry, that I couldn’t not care about the consequences.”

“Well, it’s probably a good thing that one of us can always be counted on to remember that actions have consequences.” Fenris had sufficiently forgotten that concept that he neglected to take into account how annoyed Cass would be if she ever found out he had practically dangled Bran off a stairway where Aveline could have seen. “Besides, if the consequences are that I lose you, what’s the point of having been protected?”

“Isn’t that what I told you after that stunt you pulled in Cumberland?”

He shrugged with a half-smile on his face. “I don’t seem to recall that at the moment.”

“That’s my line!”

“I thought it was good.” He looked back at the table and picked up one of the boxes. While it was mostly non-descript, there was a small crank extending from one of its sides. “What’re these?”

Cass pulled a similar box out of the vase. “Oh,” she laughed a bit. Fenris was able to catch a slightly manic edge to it, but nothing for immediate concern. “I’m, um… not quite sure I should tell you what that is.”

“Why?” Fenris turned his hand to continue examining the box.

“Well, it seemed like maybe you were a bit impressed with me. I’m not sure I should explain what I did for you to see just how shoddy the plan was…”

Fenris put the box down and turned to Cass with an eyebrow raised, “Cassia, you just sent an entire delegation of Tevinter Magisters fleeing the city in less than four hours. If the Qunari could manage anything  _ close _ to that, they wouldn’t still be fighting to keep control of Seheron.”

“Well, Bran did lull them into a false sense of security for me. And technically, my uncle was the one who mentioned ‘cyanide.’”

Fenris shook his head and smiled a bit. Cass always had liked trying to get out of taking credit for things. “If I promise to still be impressed, will you explain?”

“Oh, all right, but you can’t tell anyone. If people ever start catching on to me, I’ll actually have to start putting effort into things and I don’t want that.”

Fenris smiled wider.

_ Liar, you spent the whole day on nothing but this. _

Cass blushed and turned slightly away from him. “Seriously, Fenris; you saw most of what I did. I just turned the lights off and waited for someone to panic. Why’d you think I invited my uncle?”

“So he wouldn’t stop by tomorrow, mad about how you ‘forgot’ to invite him today.”

“Well, yes, that too. Do you think he’ll finally stop coming?”

“Yes.” Fenris wasn’t sure whether Gamlen would stop trying to come to the Keep, but Gamlen was never coming to the Keep again as long as he could do anything about it. “But how’d you get Bran to agree to let you serve almonds?”

“Oh, Bran would have  _ never  _ agreed to let me serve almonds. It was supposed to be a pomegranate sauce on the trout, but Bran insisted the kitchen throw all the pomegranates out.”

“Now, why would he have done something like that?”

“He had this absolutely  _ paranoid _ idea I’d tampered with them. Just because he saw me sprinkling something on them that disappeared instantly.”

“Hmm… and what could that have been?”

“Salt. All he had to do was taste it and he’d have known. It really was too easy, he was so busy trying to make sure to throw out all the ingredients he thought I could have gotten at, he completely forgot that the chefs actually had to cook an entire meal. It wasn’t until after the Magisters arrived that someone let me know the menu had to be changed and I was locked out of the west wing so I just could not tell Bran. I was forced to improvise.”

“You sound terribly upset about that.”

“It cut into my time to lace the drinks!”

“How’d you manage to get Magebane into sealed bottles anyway?”

“Well, that was only half of it. I also had to coat the bottoms of all the pitchers. Lucky Squall shattered most of the glassware in the Keep the first week we were here and I had to get it all replaced with ones that are clouded towards the bottom and textured.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s really obvious though. You stick a syringe through the cork and inject the stuff. Then plug the hole with more cork. You get it close enough to the center and the bottle opener destroys all the evidence. And then you deliberately tamper with some of the seals with varying degrees of subtlety so everyone is focused on making sure all of those are still intact.”

“You did all that today?”

“So, I maybe thought my letter wouldn’t be the end of the Imperium’s little delusion about me owning slaves and started preparing the drinks a few weeks ago. I wasn’t wrong! I can’t be paranoid if I’m not wrong. Besides, I still had to see about the rest of the evening.”

“Like the music?”

“You already know how I did that!” She indicated the boxes on the table.

He looked up at her in confusion and picked one up again. She gestured turning something and he twisted the crank. Errant notes began emanating from the box. “How did you get these made today?”

“I didn’t need to get them made today; open it up.”

He opened the lid and saw a mostly normal musical box, except someone had bent several of the teeth so they wouldn’t be struck as the cylinder turned. “Okay, so that’s the food, the Magebane, and the music, but what about the antidote you mentioned?”

“Fenris! I thought at least  _ you’d _ know what a play was!”

He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“So life was maybe going to imitate art a bit. Dessert was going to be mulled wine poached pears. With candied elfroot. Which I guess does look a  _ lot _ like candied mint.”

“Cass, you hate mulled wine. You hate  _ all _ wine.”

“Yes, but you don’t. I told the servants to bring mine to the apartment so you could have it. I’m not sure if it’s going to be there with everything that happened, but…”

“Why hide an antidote in a dessert no one was going to see?”

“Well, in the  _ incredibly _ unlikely event my uncle and everyone made it through the meal, I was going to bring the lights up for dessert. I said they weren’t coming back on until  _ after _ dinner…”

“And dessert is served after dinner. And yours would have been conspicuously missing.”

She couldn’t keep the smile off her face, “Because I don’t like wine!”

He reached out to her. “No one was going to believe that.”

She walked into his open arms. “It’s not  _ my _ fault no one believes the truth when I tell it.”

He closed his arms around her. She leaned into him and twisted her arms behind his neck as he pressed her to him tighter. They stayed like that for a few minutes before he felt her start to strain not to lean away and he let her go. He tried to adjust the strands of her hair that were threatening to obstruct her face but he couldn’t get a good grip on them with the gloves.

“You can take those off now if you want to. No reason to leave them on.” She started tugging at one of them to remove it.

“That depends,” he brought his other hand to her face. “Do you promise to tell me if you need me to let go?”

She averted her eyes and frowned slightly.

“Can you promise to let me know if you need me to let go?”

She nodded and leaned into him. 

He bit the tip of one of the fingers of the glove to remove it then held the back of her head and pressed his face to her hair so he could revel in her scent as well as her touch. “Have I ever told you, Cassia, just how glad I am to have you on my side?”

“I…” She leaned away just far enough to look at him. “Always, Fenris.” Her gaze drifted away from his for a few seconds before she brought it back. “Where else would I be?”

“Hmm… I don’t know, but I do know I never want to find out. Things are always so much better when you’re with me.”

“I…” She rested her head just below his chin and pressed her face into his neck. “That’s…” He could feel her start to cry as her words failed her and she refused to forgive herself for it.

“It’s okay, Cass. I know what you mean.”

She shook her head before leaning up to whisper to him, “I missed you today, Fenris.”

He smiled. “I missed you too, Cassia.”


End file.
